La Famiglia Read online

  She stood and Mira frowned. “What is that on your neck? Is that Dominic’s necklace?” Mira asked.

  “Cool isn’t it?” Marietta smiled. She walked over and showed the necklace to Mira. “Do you know who this is?”

  “A Saint?” Mira said.

  “It’s the patron saint of lost children. Giovanni had it made for Dominic when they were kids. Dominic said your husband protected him from a lot of pain. I guess there are some good sides to the mean ole Don after all,” she said through a smile.

  Mira smiled and watched her go. She rocked back in the chair and tried to focus on the positive. It was hard.

  Later –

  Mira stretched and heaved her weary body from the chair. She was exhausted. Before she put Eve to bed and laid the twins down for the night Zia showed her a really good way to wrap her newborn sons. She wrapped them so tightly that they slept for fours at a time instead of two. She needed to shower and eat something before the boys woke. She picked up the handheld baby monitor and made sure it was on and connected to the one attached to the crib.

  Mira left her room. Leo wasn’t posted outside of it and that was a first. With the men gone the others that remained spent more time outside guarding the perimeter of Villa Mar Blu than inside. She walked across the hall into her bedroom. The cool emptiness she found chilled her through her clothes. She glanced over at the bed neither had slept in since she discovered the truth. She smiled. How could she not look at the bed she shared with her husband and not smile?

  Over the past few months of her pregnancy he had been there, day and night. She had gotten used to the constant. The separation between them now was unnatural.

  Mira walked over to her dresser and set down the baby monitor. She returned to her bed. She picked up her gun Giovanni left for her on her pillow. She didn’t fear the weapon any longer. She set it aside and stretched out over the sheets. She rolled over onto his pillow and took a deep intake. She could smell him. Forgive him? She could. She has. But what did she do with her anger?

  Mira closed her eyes and her thoughts drifted to her mother. Soon she thought of Giovanni’s mother. The comparison made her shoot upright on the bed. There was so much she still didn’t know. Such as, why a man who abandoned her and her sister would wait nearly twenty-five years to rectify that mistake?

  She needed answers. The truth. She needed to be free of all her anger and hurt by confronting the person who really put it there.

  “Mancini,” she said.

  She scrambled off the bed. She grabbed the baby monitor and hurried out of her room, down the stairs and through the hall to Marietta’s room. She found her sister on the bed listening to music with a pair of headphones. Marietta painted her toenails. She glanced up.

  “Hey?” she said. She removed her headphones.

  Mira set the baby monitor down. “I know what we need to do.”

  “What?” Marietta frowned.

  “We need to get answers. Real answers. Not from our husbands but from the man himself. We need to see our father.”

  20.

  The flight ended shortly after take off. At least it was how he felt. Time and distance had no affect on him now. The strange dead feeling of blackness thickened in him. Giovanni blinked at the passing mountainous landscape of Naples from his window. From the moment he left Villa Mare Blu he reflected on his life, his past and current mistakes. He touched his lips. The brief kiss from Mira lingered there. The look in her eyes when they parted haunted him. Away from her, clarity returned. An image formed in his mind—Mira and him dancing at their wedding. How beautiful she was. How happy he felt. Such undiluted happiness it shocked and amazed him. No woman had ever made him feel such peace and torment.

  He shouldn’t have lashed out at her, or been cruel to her. He regretted so many things. Still he wouldn’t change any of his actions. He was who he was. His wife had never accepted that fact. She’d never accept him. The plane taxied to a stop. A surge of energy returned to his bones. He harnessed it and resolved his purpose. There was a caravan of twenty-six cars waiting for his arrival. His top earners and enforcers had all come to welcome him.

  Giovanni left his seat with his head bowed to avoid colliding with the plane’s low ceiling. He stepped out of the plane as all his men exited their vehicles.

  Santo approached first. He wore a tailored black suit. Carlo, Lorenzo, and Nico waited near a car reserved for Giovanni. Each man observed him. The mood of his men was tense, solemn. They’d lost territory and lives in their own clans the past few days. And the blood continued to flow through the Campania.

  “Ben tornato.” Santo kissed him on both cheeks. “Inspector Bonomo will meet with us. He waits for you at Melanzana. It’s all been arranged thanks to my careful negotiations.”

  “Change of plans.” Giovanni replied. “You and Nico are to head to Chiaiano tonight.”

  “I thought Lorenzo and Carlo would return and I could assist you in the—”

  Giovanni walked toward the car waiting for him. Santo quickly caught up and matched his stride. “Boss? Aspetti un momento.”

  “After I meet with Bonomo I will join you and the men in Chiaiano. End of discussion,” Giovanni said.

  Carlo opened the door for Giovanni and he slipped inside to the backseat. Dominic joined him from the other side of the car. Lorenzo got behind the wheel and when Carlo joined them Lorenzo drove them off the tarmac. The caravan of his men followed. Giovanni wiped his hand down his face and worked his neck from left to right. The lack of sleep had him numb all over.

  “Are you sure you want to handle things this way?”

  “It’s already decided,” Giovanni answered.

  The tension in Dominic’s tone coiled tighter when he spoke. “May I ask why? Why are we cutting Santo’s throat? He has worked hard to get the inspector to agree to this meeting. What are your plans?”

  Giovanni glanced up and Lorenzo looked up in the rearview mirror. Their eyes met. Lorenzo smiled. Giovanni looked away. “Santo will learn his fate soon enough,” he replied.

  * B *

  “Wait? Let me get this straight. You want to go and see the man who is trying to kill us?” Marietta asked. She laughed. She laughed hard.

  Mira didn’t take well to being laughed at. She chewed on the inside of her jaw. Maybe she should try to explain herself another way. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s funny as hell,” Marietta said with a dismissive flip of her wrist.

  “I’m serious, Marietta. I want to confront the man who made us. The man who separated us. The man who destroyed our mother,” Mira said.

  “If he hadn’t destroyed our mother we wouldn’t exist,” Marietta said. “Ever think of it that way? Besides it’s in the past. I told Lorenzo I’d leave it there.”

  “I want answers. I need closure so Giovanni and I can move on. Don’t you want that?”

  “I have closure.” Marietta shrugged. “I know what happened to my mother and I found you. That for me is closure.”

  “Not for me.” Mira paced the floor. “For years I blamed her. Hated her for being so selfish and leaving me behind. I actually thought she deserved to be dead. I was afraid to be a mother because of my issues.”

  To this Marietta did look up. Mira recognize the look of confliction in her sister’s eyes. So she continued. “The thing is it was all a lie. Our mother never abandoned us. She was taken. Murdered. And my husband is so torn up with guilt over what his father did he’s put a wall between us in our marriage long before I knew it existed. I’m scared we’ll tear each other apart if I don’t get to the bottom of this.”

  “What does that have to do with finding Mancini?” Marietta frowned.

  “There’s more to the story of her death than either of us know. If we can’t get the answers from that evil bastard then who can tell us?”

  Marietta moved her feet off the bed careful to keep her toes raised and separated. “Remember this?” she asked. She opened the drawer in her nightst
and and retrieved a folded piece of paper. Mira accepted the document and read it once more. It was the letter that was given to her the day she learned the truth.

  “Gemma gave that to me, it’s the letter I gave to you,” Marietta said.

  “Who is Gemma?” Mira asked.

  “My godmother. That’s the only way I can explain her. She says she knew our mother.”

  “How did they know each other?” Mira asked.

  “Not sure. When I grew up Gemma was always there. At first I thought she was an aunt. But later I found out she was a family friend. She took me to have my ears pierced. She was the one who taught me how to use tampons. She came to America regularly to make sure I was okay. She said I was special and I was grateful for her.”

  There was so much Mira didn’t know about her mother and her life her head swam. Each minute that passed she grew desperate to learn the full truth. “She never told you how she knew our mother?”

  “She gave me my bracelet. Told me that she only knew my mother briefly. When I got proof of my original birth certificate, she later told me that my father was a man named Capriccio. So I came to Milan to confront him. Capriccio put me in his will to keep me from learning the truth. Mancini was my father. He and Gemma conspired together.”

  “Why? What is with all of the secrets?”

  “Mira, we were supposed to be dead. I think Gemma and Capriccio kept us a secret to keep us alive. To help us.”

  “I don’t know. I have a hard time believing something like this was done to protect two bastard babies. There’s more to the story,” Mira said.

  “Maybe. But I guarantee you Mancini won’t tell it. If you want answers, let’s get them from Gemma.”

  Mira nodded in agreement.

  “On the back is a number to call her. I think we should,” Marietta said.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone,” Mira said.

  “We can’t invite her over for tea now can we?” Marietta laughed.

  “It’s not funny.” Mira sighed. “Giovanni and I are at a terrible place right now. I have to fix my marriage. If I get my answers I know I can find a way to fix my marriage.”

  “That’s not what the truth does,” Marietta said. “The truth chains you to facts about who you are and who our mother was. There is peace in ignorance, Mira.”

  “Not for me. I have to be able to look my husband in the eye. Face what is between us. And I can’t trust him or myself to get past our hurt if I’m still clueless. I want you to call her.” She handed over the paper. “Call her.”

  “And?” Marietta asked.

  “Tell her we want to meet.”

  “Are you sure?” Marietta asked.

  “Yes. We’re going to go see her and get some answers.”

  “No. I should have never even brought her up.” Marietta shook her head emphatically and began to fold the paper.

  “Why?” Mira asked.

  “There’s an army guarding the door. There is no way we can get out of here.”

  Mira hadn’t considered that obstacle. She chuckled. “Our grannie used to say to me when I was a little girl that where there is a will there is always a way,” Mira said. “Call Gemma and ask her if she is willing to meet with us. See if she can do it soon. Let me worry about the how.”

  * B *

  The phone rang.

  Gemma’s soul nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart raced so fast she clutched her chest for fear of a stroke. She looked up over at the ringing phone on the night table as if it were some creature that had come to life and gave a death roar. Could it be Armando Mancini? He had been angered, and nearly killed by the explosion. She knew he hunted her. Isabella was dead. And that posed another problem. Who were Isabella’s allies? Who helped her on her crusade for vengeance? And were they too looking for Gemma to avenge her death?

  The phone continued to ring.

  Gemma pushed up from the bed to reach over toward it. If she answered it would seal her fate. If she didn’t, she’d never know where the threat was coming from. “Pronto?”

  “Hi,” a familiar voice greeted her.

  Gemma’s smiled with relief. “Mio Dio! Marietta? Is that you?”

  “Yes. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Marietta asked.

  “I can’t believe you called and now of all times.” Gemma put her hand to her heart. The very last call she expected to receive was from Marietta. “Ciao, cara mia, how are you?”

  “I’m good. And you?”

  Gemma ran her hand back through her hair. She looked around the small room and couldn’t settle on an answer. The evening bus out of Carini into Palermo left in an hour. If she missed it she’d have to catch the next one tomorrow. If Armando hunted for her he’d certainly find her during the daytime travel crowds.

  “Gemma?” Marietta called out.

  “Yes. Yes, sweetheart. I’m here. You didn’t catch me at a bad time,” Gemma replied.

  “I want to meet.” Marietta said.

  “You do?” Gemma asked.

  “Yes. Tonight. Is that okay? I… My sister and I have questions. You said if we had them we could talk.”

  Gemma closed her eyes. “Your timing, kid, it couldn’t be worse.”

  “Well that couldn’t be helped. To be honest this is Mira’s idea not mine. I… I’m angry with you.”

  Silence settled between them. Gemma put a hand to her forehead and tried to find the words to explain herself. Confession was good for the soul is what she was always taught. There were so many untruths that burdened her soul.

  “I’m sorry,” Marietta sighed and then continued. “If that hurts you. But you’ve lied to me so much. If you can’t meet I understand.”

  “No. We have to meet. We should meet. You deserve to know the truth.” Gemma said.

  “Are you okay? You sound funny?” Marietta asked.

  Gemma sniffed. “I’m fine!” she laughed. “Just homesick. In fact I was packing, heading back to Milano.”

  “Oh... okay well I will call you back in an hour to arrange the meeting spot. Thank you, Gemma. Thank you so much. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Marietta.” Gemma hung up. She sat on the edge of the bed. The bus was the better option. To slip out of Carini before the Mancinis found her.

  Gemma couldn’t stay put. It was too risky. Agreeing to go to see Marietta could be another set up.

  * B *

  When he crossed the threshold of Melanzana the anxiety of the past few days slipped from his bones. Dominic walked at his side. Giovanni removed his suit jacket and passed it off to Ana who managed the staff.

  “The inspector is here, signor,” Ana said. “I’ve made him comfortable for your meeting in the parlor.”

  “Grazie, Ana,” he gave her two cheek kisses.

  “How’s the Donna? The babies?” Ana gushed. Only on rare occasions did anyone see her smile.

  “Bennisima. You’ll meet them soon.” Giovanni assured her. He walked through the foyer to the parlor. If Mira and the family were present he’d take the meeting in Villa Rosso. Thankfully he could have it here in his home without interruption.

  “You have an hour and we need to be on the road to Chiaiano, before dark.” Dominic advised. He glanced back. “Do you want Lorenzo in this meeting?”

  “From now on Lorenzo is in every meeting,” Giovanni said. He entered the parlor. “Inspector Bonomo, it’s good to see you.”

  “Giovanni!” The inspector stood. He greeted Giovanni with an open arm hug. He kissed him on both cheeks. “I hear congratulations are in order?”

  “Two sons. We’ve named them Gianni and Gino.” Giovanni boasted. He snapped his fingers and Arturo came forward to freshen Bonomo’s drink. “Please sit,” Giovanni said.

  “Two sons!” The inspector accepted his new drink. Giovanni observed him. From what he knew of Bonomo he enjoyed a good merlot and a hot young boy to satisfy his appetites. The inspector watched Arturo with a wolfish grin.

  Giovanni’s gaze cut
over to Lorenzo and his cousin picked up on it as well. He whispered to Arturo to leave and followed the boy out. He then drew the doors closed. The Battaglias have always counted on Bonomo in the past to help them navigate the legal traps set by authorities. Now the media and every political mouthpiece from within the parliament had something to say about the Camorra. Giovanni’s marriage to Mira had kept the international press hot on his ass. The unwanted attention was made even worse by the election of a new inspector who promised to clean up southern Italy.

  “I’m not going to lie, this is bad. Very bad. It has reached the desk of the Prime Minister. He’s been accused of letting lawlessness rule the Campania.”

  “I understand. It troubles me that our progress in the parliament has devolved to this. And I take personal responsibility for it.”

  “I hear we have a new inspector?” Giovanni asked. “Who is he?”

  Bonomo swallowed his merlot and avoided Giovanni’s eyes. “His name is Donatello, and he’s a fool if he thinks he alone can rid the Campania of the Camorra.”

  The words sounded sincere, but Bonomo’s inability to look him in the eye when he spoke them gave Giovanni pause. He never trusted a man who could not look him in the eye.

  “The true enemy to the good people of Italy is the `Ndrangheta not the Camorra. They are raiders. Cockroaches!” Giovanni said.

  “Bu-but…” the inspector stammered.

  “Let me finish.” Giovanni gestured for silence. “I know my hands in this aren’t clean. I run the sanitation, I make sure nothing traffics in and out of my territories. However the `Ndrangheta have arrived. And I hear they use the bay for their own purposes.”

  The inspector nodded. He removed his handkerchief and dabbed at his fat jaws and then forehead. “It’s true. We have them under surveillance. And your men as well.”

  Giovanni smiled. At last he had gotten Bonomo to share something useful. “I’m sure Donatello is looking to make a big arrest, something to elevate his position. He does so, then what happens to you?”

  Bonomo didn’t reply.

  Giovanni leaned forward. “All these years and you’ve never arrested a man in the Camorra. It must have harmed your reputation.”